


my body's made of crushed little stars

by glasscreature



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Canon-Typical Ableism, Cutting, Depression, Drugs, Eating Disorders, M/M, Slow Burn, Slurs, Smoking, Suicidal Thoughts, angsty as hell, canon typical homophobia, canon typical sexism, dennis almost dies, depressed ass dennis being comforted by mac the weed dealer, little bit of A Little Life inspo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-12
Updated: 2018-11-29
Packaged: 2019-08-22 19:02:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16603748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glasscreature/pseuds/glasscreature
Summary: dennis hurts himself. he doesn't know who to call. so he calls mac.aka, dennis has mental health issues and needs to get his shit together, and mac is a dumbass but he can tell when people are hurting. super tw for depression/cutting/eating disorders.title stolen from mitski, duh





	1. Chapter 1

This is a position he’s been in before. He thought he had stopped, but. Something always happens, doesn’t it? 

That’s how Dennis finds himself on the floor, arms wet with blood. Usually, everything is fine. Usually, he goes through with the act, silently, the sound of his breath echoing in the bathroom. He has gauze and disinfectant. Then he pretends like it didn’t happen. Nobody’s ever cared enough to ask why he always wears sweaters or long-sleeved shirts, even on the hottest days of the summer. That’s usually how it goes, at least. Today is different.  
He was angry, and he hadn’t been thinking. Usually it was planned, usually he could control himself. But today was not usually, was it? It looked like a murder scene on the tiles of his bathroom floor, and his head spun. He tried to put pressure on his arms but the blood kept seeping out. Shit, shit, shit. Not good. He fumbled around in his pocket for his phone. He scrolled through the contacts, goddammit, who could help? A thread of terror dug itself deep into Dennis’s stomach. This was how he died. Some pathetic, snivelling wimp who killed himself on accident. No- that couldn’t happen. He didn’t give a fuck, honestly, whether he lived or died, but if Dee found him, if Frank found him- No. That was not a future he’d allow himself to imagine.  
Finally, he saw it- Mac, that goddamn idiot, his weed dealer. They weren’t friends, but that was why he was perfect. Mac, with those huge eyes that widened whenever he was around. Who lived only a couple of blocks away. Blood drips onto his phone screen and his hand shakes. He wipes his phone on his sleeve and presses Mac’s number.  
“... Dennis? What the fuck, man, what time is it?” Mac’s tired voice crackles over the phone’s speaker.  
“I- look, can you come over? Please. It’s- goddammit, just come. I’ll text you the address.” Dennis’s voice sounds weak, even to him.  
“Yeah, yeah, okay, is everything alright?” Dennis could hear the rustle of clothes.  
“Yeah, just get here as fast as you can. And be quiet.” He tried to not sound like the pitiful, weak, disgusting creature he was. He hangs up. His head was spinning, and he laughs as he looked down at the scene, the mess he’d made of himself. What a disgusting little joke he was, a fat, ugly, friendless little worm. He texts Mac his address with his shaking, bloody fingers. He hears a quiet knock on the door a minute later.  
Steadying himself, he manages to get up and walk to the front door. He could barely open it, but then there he was.  
“Dennis? Fuck, oh fuck, what have you done with yourself?” Dennis lets out a raspy laugh, and suddenly this whole situation is very, very funny.  
“Hello, hello, welcome…” he says, throwing his arm in the air, forgetting it’s covered in a mixture of dried and wet blood that drips onto the floor. “Mi casa es su casa, or whatever,” His words slur and he starts to wobble, almost falling over.  
“Fucking hell, we need to get you to the hospital, jesus christ, Dennis-“ he says, steadying Dennis and stepping into the house.  
“No… no no… no hospital. You can help, my knight… my uh, uh, what do they say? I haven’t eaten in awhile,” And then he passes out.

When he comes to, he’s back in his room, gauze is wrapped all around his arms and Mac is standing over him.  
“Thank fuck you’re awake, I thought you were going to die,” Mac says, chewing at his finger.  
“How long was I out?” he says, rubbing his forehead and sitting up. His arms ache, a little bit, from where he had cut into himself.  
“Just a couple minutes. So I, uh. Y’know.” Mac gestures to Dennis’s arms. “I took a CPR class in junior year. Um, you should probably drink some water too.” He busies himself with getting a cup for Dennis.  
“CPR? Wrapping my arms in gauze isn’t CPR,” Dennis says, leaning against the cabinet and summoning as much of his normal self as he can.  
“First aid, whatever. Here-” Dennis starts to reach his arm up to take the cup from Mac’s hands, but they weigh him down like leaden pipes. Mac sees and says nothing, just tipping the water into his mouth. Dennis hates this, god, he fucking hates it, being treated like a little kid, like he’s going to break at any moment. He deserves it, though. That’s what he gets for being such a disgusting, ugly, piece of shit.  
“You okay now?” says Mac, swiping a piece of hair out of his face.  
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” Dennis grumbles, looking down at the floor. Mac sighs and collapses on to the tile next to him.  
“Jesus. I really thought you were going to die,” he sighs, looking at his toes. Dennis’s laugh in reply is dry and short.  
“Well, so did I. That’s why I called you,” he replies. “I didn’t know who else to call,” lingers on the tip of his tongue, but he just lets in a deep breath of air and closes his eyes.  
“Well, can I…look, I gotta be point blank about it. Were you trying to… kill yourself?” Mac says it with those huge brown eyes of his, and he looks like a damn puppy dog, and Dennis can just feel the pity emanating from him.  
“No, no, I’m not that fucking emo.” He tries to make it funny, but the thing is, it’s not. He had come way too close tonight. “I just, um. I was upset.”  
Mac nods. “You don’t have to talk about it, really. Just, why did you call me? Don’t you have like, all your other friends?”  
“Well, friends...I’d say is a strong word. More like...school associates.” he says, with a tight smile. Mac snorts.  
“School associates? Man, what are you, an, an, investor?” Okay, so maybe Dennis is fucked up, utterly fucked up, sitting on the floor of his bathroom with his weed dealer who saved his life, but he thinks that maybe, it will be okay. They are back to normal, like when he corners Mac after school, and they smoke under the bleachers and watch Ren and Stimpy in the computer lab, laughing way too hard, because in that moment Dennis is not a mess of neuroses, he’s just dumb, and high, and he remembers sometimes it’s okay.  
So they talk for a couple hours, just about dumb crap, like who so and so is fucking, and whether Jennifer looks like she has down syndrome. Dennis gets tired first, so Mac leaves as Dennis folds himself into bed, lingering in the doorway for just a second before leaving, and it’s almost like it never happened at all.


	2. chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> mac and dennis get high and ditch school.

The next time they see each other is Wednesday. It’s been a crap day already- his mom yelled at him for putting his blue shirt in with her laundry, which is now slightly pink, and Dee’s been bugging him all day. But he gets through AP Physics and Math, then it’s lunch time. He would have lunch with his usual gang, but he’s fasting today and his head is killing him, so he just goes and sits on the grass on the side of the school near the parking lot. This isn’t healthy, he knows, but he’s got through life thus far being beautiful and skinny, and he’s sure as fuck not gonna mess it up now.

“Hey,” Mac says from behind him.

“Oh, Mac. Didn’t notice you,” Dennis says, turning to him and shielding his eyes from the beady sun.

“Whatcha doin out here? Ditching your ‘associates’?” He says it with air quotes, and it should be playful, but the reminder that it happened at all sends a squirm of disgust through Dennis. 

“Have a migraine,” he replies with a forced smile. Mac’s a good guy, he knows, but sometimes he really just does not have the fucking space to deal with anyone.

“Oh, that sucks. Sorry bro.” Mac shrugs and looks at the ground next to Dennis’s legs awkwardly.

“Hey, do you have any weed on you?” Dennis asks, because there is no way he’s getting through this day sober.

“Yeah. I got some sativa on me.” Mac says, patting the back pocket of his backpack. Dennis rubs at his head and stands up.

 

“Could I get like.. 2 grams?” He’s looking at the ground, because behind Mac is the sun, beating down on his fried brain with no respite.  
“Yeah- hey, hey man, I have a good idea. Let’s go get high and ditch, we can go to McDonalds or something. And we don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.” Mac says, with excitement and anticipation. When Dennis sees his stupid grin he can’t help but smile a little.

“Yeah, yeah, let’s get the hell out of here.”  
\---  
Dennis is in Mac’s car and it’s a shit hole. There are stains all over the seats, a couple of dents in the fender, and dirty clothes all in the backseat. He observes all this while Mac rolls a joint, quickly and expertly.

“Ta da,” he says, and Dennis pulls out his lighter. They take turns taking hits and Dennis coughs, the back of his throat stinging. When they finish it, Mac drives through town and they pick up Big Macs and fries.

“We can’t eat it in the car, I don’t wanna fuck up the upholstery,” Mac says, glancing over at Dennis.

“Your car is a shithole, man. It’s already ruined.” Dennis complains.

“Okay, maybe it’s a shithole, but it’s my shithole!” Mac whines back as he turns.

“Ugh, whatever. Mind if I smoke in here?” Dennis says, pulling out his pack of Marlboros.

“Yeah, just blow the smoke out the window,” Mac replies, and Dennis rolls down the window. He smokes and stares out into the city while Mac drives.

“Didn’t know you smoked,” Mac says a couple minutes later, when the high is setting in and they’re almost to Mac’s house.

“Only sometimes,” Dennis says, blowing smoke out of his mouth.

“You shouldn’t,” Mac says weakly.

“You sound like my dad,” Dennis replies with a toothy grin, blowing a little bit of smoke in Mac’s direction.

“Hey, stop it, stop it. Are you feeling it?” Mac grips the steering wheel with one hand as he turns onto his street.

“Yeah,” Dennis says lazily with the cigarette between his lips. Mac glances over at the stub, and pulls it out of Dennis’s mouth, taking a couple drags. He sputters, feeling his head grow dizzy. 

“Hypocrite,” Dennis says, pulling the cigarette out of Mac’s hand. He takes a drag on it then throws it out the window as they pull into Mac’s garage.

 

\---

His mom couldn’t really care less, so they go into his room and hang out. Mac’s shit was strong, and now they were stupid high, devouring their burgers like people who’d never eaten before.

“Holy shit, this is so fuckin good,” Dennis said mid-bite as they scarfed down their food.

“Bro, close your mouth! You’re nasty,” Mac laughed and leaned on Dennis. They were sprawled out on the floor of his bedroom, leading against his bed frame, leaving a mess on his dirt-colored carpet.

“How’d you already finish yours, damn.” Dennis said again while eating, looking scandalized. Mac shrugged in response.

“I should go on one of those um, um. What are they?” He trailed off for a second before starting off with excitement. “A hot dog eating contest! I’d be great at that,” he said, settling back down.

“I don’t know, Mac. I heard to eat the hot dogs faster they wet the buns.” Dennis said, scrunching his eyebrows. 

“Oh, gross. Yeah, I’d probably throw up.”

Dennis’s eyes widened mid-bite.

“Crap, crap, I was fasting. Fuck, I’m all off now.” Mac’s eyes had glazed over looking at Dennis.

“What?” he said slowly.

“Nothing, it’s fine.” Mac bit the inside of his lip and kept eating.

“Bro,” Mac said, righting himself and grabbing a french fry. “We should, like, watch something.”

“Yeah,” Dennis replied. Mac got up unsteadily and grabbed the remote from besides Dennis, brushing his thigh.

“Sorry,” Mac said, frozen bent over Dennis’s legs.

“S’okay,” Dennis said quietly, looking into Mac’s eyes that avoided his. Mac sat back down and fumbled with the remote, changing the channels.

“Wait, wait, go back, I wanna watch the nature documentary,” Dennis said, nudging Mac.

“What? That’s so boring! We should watch like, wrestling,” Mac replied, leaning into Dennis’s shoulder.

“Wrestling is for fags, bro,” Dennis says lazily, setting his burger wrapper on the floor.

“Is not! Wrestling’s like, the manliest thing you do. It’s like, America, man.” Mac says with conviction, looking at Dennis.

“America?” Dennis eyes Mac facetiously. 

“Yeah, that’s a real sport. Not like some dumb documentary,” Dennis concedes and they end up watching wrestling, and the way that the fighter’s sweaty skin slaps together as they fight mesmerizes him. Mac’s head slips down until he’s settled in Dennis’s lap. By the time they both realize how much time has gone by while they’ve been commenting on the show, it’s almost 5:30.

“Crap, I gotta get home or my dad will kick the shit outta me,” Dennis says to Mac. By now his high has mostly faded, and the insistent alarms in his head about how many calories he ate today is ringing.

“Oh damn, yeah. See you tomorrow I guess,” Mac says, flopping on his bed.

“Can I use your bathroom before I go home, though?” Dennis asks. He feels bad about it, but he knows ever since the last time he passed out in the middle of Christmas they check the toilets.

“Yeah, no problem. Down the hall,” Mac says, pointing.

“Cool. See you,” Dennis waves, grabbing his backpack and heading to the bathroom. He closes the door and locks it, setting his bag down. He sticks his fingers down his throat and the food comes up, and he tries to be quiet as his body retches and gets rid of the toxins. He throws up and throws up until his throat and stomach hurt, and then he leaves.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> mac and dennis get drunk and play truth or dare.

  
  


He knows it’s a bad idea as soon as Mac says it. He knows it as soon as it comes out of his annoying little mouth, he knows it as soon as he can see his eyes crinkle, but Dennis isn’t very good at saying no to another way to destroy himself. So that’s how they end up sitting on the couch at Mac’s house, watching the Eagles game, drinking vodka cokes. Dennis doesn’t even like vodka, but the less sober he is, the better.

“Who do you think is better, Jim McMahon or Reggie White?” Mac asks him, head tucked on his shoulder.

“You can’t compare them, that’s like comparing an orange and an apple. McMahon does offensive and White does defensive,” Dennis says, taking another sip. “Yeah, yeah, but like, if you had to pick one, Like you’re making an imaginary perfect team but you only get one,” Mac says.

“You can’t only have one, you need both offensive and defensive on a team, dumbass.” Dennis replies.

“No, I mean like, there are other people on the team too and like- whatever, forget it.” Mac takes a gulp out of his drink. Dennis is definitely not staring at his tongue as he licks his lips. Definitely not. “Hey, I’ve got an idea- let’s play a game!” Mac says, sitting up a little bit. “Truth or Dare,”

“Truth or dare? What are we, 6th graders?” 

“No, no, bro, I promise it’ll be fun. And if you refuse you gotta drink,” Mac says with a dumb grin on his face.

“Fine, whatever. You go first,” Dennis says, feeling the alcohol a little bit.

“Truth or dare?” Mac replies with a mischievous tilt to his voice.

“Uhh, truth.” Mac makes a noise like a dog that’s been kicked.

“You can’t do truth, that’s no fun!” Mac punches him the arm softly.

“Ugh, why’d you even ask, then? Fine, dare.” 

“Dare you to chug your drink,” Mac says. 

“That’s the lamest goddamn thing you’ve ever come up with. Really? You’re wasting your dare on that?” Dennis sneers. 

“Yeah, whatever, just do it man,” Mac says, a little curl of anger coming out in his voice. Dennis shuts his eyes and tips his drink. He wrinkles his nose a little, and takes a breath when he’s done.

“Happy?” he says, rolling his eyes. “My breath smells like hand sanitizer.” Mac shrugs and pours Dennis and him some mor _ e _ vodka.

_ “ _ Your turn,” Mac says, taking a sip.

“Alright. Truth or dare?” Dennis replies.

“Truth,”

“Why’d you giving me shit for picking truth if you do it too? That’s why this game is so fuckin dumb, everyone just chooses truth.” He sighs and shakes his head.

“Nah man, I was at a sleepover once, you know James Schrader? He had to eat a spoonful of wasabi and threw up all over Aiden Sherman’s floor,” Mac recalls with wonder in his eyes.

“That’s cause James is an idiot. No self-respecting person would eat a spoonful of wasabi, anyway,” Dennis says, lolling his head over to look at Mac.

“It happened bro, I promise. It’s your turn man, ask me something.” Mac says, shrugging his shoulders.

“Alright, uh… Have you hooked up with anyone at school?” Dennis asks lazily, tracing his fingers up the ridges of the cup.

“Yeah,”

“Who?”

“You can’t ask that! You get one question, that’s how the game works!” Mac says shrilly, throwing his hands in the air.

“Does not! Not like i give a shit about whoever you’re banging. but you have to tell me,” 

“Uhh, does too!” Mac said, crossing his arms.

“Fine, I bet I can guess. Megan Telufsen?”

“What?!” Mac’s voice jumps several registers. “Why do you immediately assume I banged the autistic chick?”

Dennis shrugs. “I’m sure she’s easy, who else could you swing?”

“I HAVE BANGED PLENTY OF CHICKS, I AM A GODDAMN GIRL  _ MAGNET _ , ALRIGHT-“ Mac jumps up and starts to yell before Dennis cuts him off.

“Oh my god, shut up, you’ll wake your mom! If you don’t want me guessing, just tell me, idiot.” Mac huffs and sits down, arms crossed. “Christ, what a child,” Dennis thinks, reacting to everything like it’s goddamn Hiroshima.

“I bang chicks all the time, you shithead,” Mac pouts and says, still not looking at Dennis.

“Yeah, yeah, get over your wounded masculinity and just fucking tell me,” That sets Mac off again and his brows furrow up.

“I am a goddamn badass with  _ plenty _ of masculinity! Which is not wounded!” Mac whisper-yells at him. Dennis just rolls his eyes again. “It was Karen Clucey, okay?”

“Karen  _ CLUCEY? _ !” Dennis roars. “You liar! You did not fuck Karen Clucey. She’s got like, the third best boobs in the grade.” Dennis says, squinting at Mac.

“I swear on my grandpa’s grave, it happened. We were at Kevin Mchale's party, and she was super wasted.” Mac puts his hand on his heart like a boy scout before leaning back on his hands.

Dennis sneers. “Course she was wasted. No other way she’d get with you,” Mac punches him in the stomach.

“Hey! What’s that for!” he yelps. Mac settles back on his elbows, pleased.

“You’re a mean drunk, you know that?” Mac says, sipping his drink.

“Not mean, realistic,” Dennis corrects. “And anyway, I’m the same when I’m sober.”

“No, you’re nicer. To me, at least.” Mac says, flicking Dennis.

“Yeah, well… weren’t we playing truth or dare?” Dennis’s eyes wander away from Mac, trying to avoid the subject.

“Oh, yeah, my turn. Truth or dare?” Mac says, oblivious to Dennis’s manipulations as usual.

“Truth. But actually this time, no switching.” Dennis takes another swig of his drink, which is almost empty at this point.

“Uh…. oh, okay, here’s a good one. Ever kissed a boy?” Mac says it like it’s nothing, with a little quirk in his eyebrows, says it like it’s not a mine he just dropped in the room for Dennis to maneuver around. Dennis shakes his head, not trusting his voice.

“You?” he says, trying to be casual.

“Nope. Ever wanted to?”

“Hey, who was it who said you only get one question?” Dennis whines.

“Aw c’mon, I answered yours,” Mac says with that pleading tone of voice that Dennis knows means he’s not getting out of it.

“Don’t think so,” he says, looking down at his legs and drinking. Mac hums in understanding as Dennis reaches between their legs to grab the vodka. 

“Your turn, then,” Mac says holding his cup out towards Dennis. Dennis pours some in his, along with some more Coke, and takes a sip of his own.

“Alright. Truth or dare?”

“Uhh...fuck, why not. Dare,” Mac says.

“I dare you,” Dennis says, staring at Mac resolutely, “to kiss me.” Mac tilted his head to the side.

“Isn’t that kinda gay?” he asks, drunk enough he was slurring his words now.

“Nah,” Dennis replied, “not if it’s a dare. And anyway, just cause you smoke weed once, that doesn’t make you a stoner.” Mac shrugs and apparently that questionable logic is good enough for him, because suddenly, Mac’s lips are on his. It’s barely anything at first, a spin-the-bottle kiss, but then Mac’s tongue edges its way into Dennis’s mouth, and, oh. Mac tastes like alcohol and mint chapstick, and it’s sloppy as hell and perfect, and somehow Dennis finds his hand in Mac’s hair, which is softer than it has any right to be. Kissing Mac is kind of like kissing girls, Dennis thinks, except for Mac’s unshaven stubbly chin, which rubs his face a little bit, but it’s kind of nice, he thinks. Then it’s over, and Dennis is just left staring at Mac’s dumb face.

“Oh,” Mac says, and then the moment is over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please give me a damn award for how many fake names i had to come up with, my god. also, i'm gay and i don't know shit about football, so feel free to correct me.

**Author's Note:**

> i don't ever write fics, so i hope you liked. tell me if you want more, i've never tried a chaptered fic but i kind of really want to keep writing this one.


End file.
